Everyone is born with a memory of a place where we once belonged - a place our heart instinctively calls ' home '.  We forget it in childhood, but the feeling lingers within, creating a longing that we impetuosly follow.  Without it, we feel lost. Following desire, too often we enter the wrong homes. And in the wrong homes, we get truly lost. So here is a reflection: We seek it in people, in houses, in different countries, in the pursuit of purpose. We open the doors to those who feel familiar, not realising that the feeling itself is home. In hope they stay, we let them to open the drawers of our closets, wander into sacred chambers that no one else entered before. In time, we move the furniture to accommodate someone else's desires.  The stillness in which the soul recognises itself vanishes, and once again, we long for that feeling of 'home'.  It is in effortless presence, the whispers only we can here, that we return to the path.  The longing ends, the mo...